


water cresting like teeth

by peterandhispirate



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Near Death Experiences, Possibly Unrequited Love, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 20:43:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19027570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterandhispirate/pseuds/peterandhispirate
Summary: Bucky was seventeen when he pulled Steve from the lake.





	water cresting like teeth

**Author's Note:**

> title from "gender of the day" by torrin a. greathouse

Bucky was seventeen when he pulled Steve from the lake. Steve had lied - told him he could swim perfectly fine, despite his toothpick arms and twig legs and shitty, shitty lungs.  
  
Looking back on it, Bucky figured it was some fucked up attempt to save face. Because what teenage boy didn't know how to swim? A fragile one. A wimpy one. The type of kid whose mom still tied his shoes for him.  
  
So Steve leapt from the dock like a goddamn animal, which was stupid, because Bucky wouldn't have thought any less of him if he hadn't. Hell, Steve could've told him that he didn't know how to _read_ and Bucky would've just smiled and said, "Who cares? Let's go get hotdogs."  
  
And they would've gotten hotdogs.  
  
But Steve was Steve, which meant he was self-conscious and pigheaded and batshit insane. Insane enough to launch himself into fifteen feet of water when he knew damn well he couldn't swim.  
  
Naturally, it only took a few seconds for him to start thrashing around like an underwater epileptic, and it took an even shorter amount of time for Bucky to jump in after him. Because he was the Lassie to Steve's helpless child.  
  
Drowning burned. Water was supposed to be the antithesis of fire, and yet Steve was blistering. Slowly but surely, his insides were being cremated, and all his brain could manage was _hold your breath_. But not breathing burned, too. He would die by fire either way.  
  
_Just hold your breath._  
  
Steve held it. He held it until he passed out.  
  
Fortunately for him, Lassie had arrived.  
  
Bucky was a wonder. He was a shiny-toothed, bright-eyed, big-hearted wonder and he hauled Steve to shore in arms that were safer than any sanctuary on the planet.  
  
Bucky was a wonder. Bucky was a sanctuary.  
  
"Steve? _Shit_ ," Bucky breathed, suddenly very small; powerless. "Steve, you've gotta... Your mom's gonna kill me if you..."  
  
Maybe it was the concept of Bucky's death that sent Steve sputtering back to life. He scrambled upright, coughing up bile and water and whatever else was in that godforsaken lake. And Bucky patted him on the back, because it was the only thing left to do.  
  
Once Steve had emptied his lungs, he looked over at Bucky and croaked, "Saint James? That you?"  
  
And Bucky looked back and said, "You're not fuckin' funny."  
  
"I'm hilarious."  
  
"Okay, you're hilarious." Bucky got to his feet then, water running down his neck and his shoulders and his stomach. Steve watched it slide across the canvas, breathless. He watched it until Bucky stuck out a hand and said, "Let's go home."  
  
Steve took it, and they went home.  
  
Fifty years later and Bucky was still hauling Steve's reckless ass to shore. But he wasn't a human refuge anymore. Hell, he was barely even a person. He was just an attack dog following commands. Nothing more.  
  
And yet, when he looked down at Steve, some distant part of him still thought _your mom's gonna kill me_.  


**Author's Note:**

> i'm @bastardbeck on tumblr. come say hi if you wanna


End file.
